Looks like I came too soon
by ZoZo
Summary: Speed is good. Sometimes.


Pietro Maximoff waits in the draughty, fluorescent-lit room; his body slumped into a lurid orange plastic chair.  
  
Time is not on his side. The hands of the clock, this time in lurid green, always seem to point to the same time.  
  
Quarter to ten.  
  
He picks up a leaflet and pretends to read it, startled by the confused looks a nervous looking woman in the next seat is throwing him. A red blush creeps into his cheeks when he reads the title: 'All About Your Clitoris'. He puts the leaflet back into its box and stares at the clock hopefully.  
  
Nine forty-six. One lousy minute has passed.  
  
The one good thing, he decides, about places like this are that everybody keeps themselves to themselves. Granted, he does not want to hear about a stranger's intimate problems and in return does not fancy sharing his.  
  
Pietro Maximoff, speed demon and serial lover has a problem of the worst kind.  
  
His mutation does all kinds of things to his body. He has an increased metabolism. He has a heart rate that goes off the chart. He has so much energy that he rarely needs more than two hours sleep.  
  
None of these 'side-effects' bother him. There is only one thing, caused by his super-speed that he feels he cannot live with anymore.  
  
It is, as the leaflet tucked into his back pocket claims in huge scarlet letters, Premature Ejaculation. The bane of many a man's existence. But for someone as speedy as Maximoff, premature is an understatement. His mind, and coincidentally, his libido moves so fast that it's usually over before his unlucky partner has even got undressed. What most people achieve in a night of passion, the speed demon achieves in roughly fifteen seconds.  
  
His many partners always say the same. It Doesn't Matter. It Can Happen To Any Man. He knows it's all a lie. The people he lusts after are all horny little bastards who would really prefer somebody who could last longer than a quarter of a minute. They simply wipe themselves clean and tell Pietro never mind, they can try again tomorrow. And then leave at some ungodly hour in the morning never to be seen again.  
  
Pietro has tried many times to stop himself from getting overexcited, as it were, but his increased speed always gets the better of him. For a while he thought his only option was to find another speed demon to copulate with, but his search bore no fruit.  
  
He has made valiant efforts to think unsexy thoughts while doing the business so that he can hold on a little longer. He has unwillingly thought of Fred and Todd in PVC and Scott Summers naked, but even when repulsed, speed manages to defeat him. With these 'with-holding' techniques, he can manage to last for a good fifteen seconds more, but as anyone will tell you, thirty seconds is not enough.  
  
He is surprised to find that he has finally accepted his unfortunate problem and dragged himself to a sex clinic. He suspects that his change of heart may have come from his flourishing relationship with a certain rock- tumbler. He thinks, though loath to admit it, that he is falling in love with Lance. So it's only natural, surely, to want to hold on to what they have and make it work?  
  
Luckily, Lance has not even suggested sex yet. Pietro wonders vaguely if that means Alvers has respect for him or if news of his problem travels further than he thinks. Either way, he certainly wants to have sex with Lance at some point and actually do it properly rather than blow his load before the rock-tumbler can say lubricant.  
  
So, desperate times have called for desperate measures. That is why he is here, waiting to see a sex therapist in a clinic full of people too ugly to ever have sex anyway. To pass time, he makes up a little game to keep himself amused.  
  
Guess What Intimate Problem The Freaks Have.  
  
He sees a small, mousy looking woman tapping her fingers repeatedly on the arm rest of her chair and immediately thinks Thrush.  
  
There is a man sitting in the corner staring avidly at the clock who Pietro decides is a nymphomaniac. Could men be nymphomaniacs? Maybe a sex addict.  
  
The game only keeps him amused for so long and his thoughts turn back to Lance. The soft brown eyes and long lashes. That dreadful mullet that only he could pull off. The broad chest and perfect, pert-  
  
He wants him so much it's unbearable. He comes back to his senses and shares a glance at the clock with Mr Nympho.  
  
Ten to ten.  
  
He turns his attentions to a horrifically dull article entitled 'What Do Your Shoes Say About You?'  
  
"Can I help you?" a nasal voice asks and he realises that he is the only one left in the room. The receptionist, in the midst of filing her nails is staring at him expectantly.  
  
Pietro takes another glance at the clock with an apologetic smile in her direction.  
  
Ten o' clock. His appointment is scheduled for ten-thirty.  
  
The speed demon chuckles to himself and from his lips comes the immortal line:  
  
"Looks like I came too soon." 


End file.
